


Helping

by longkissgnite



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hallucinating, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, blood mention from the hallucinations, but not horrible or graphic just clearly harm done with intent, finnick is here briefly at the end just to help his dumb girlfriend, flashbacks from her games so typical murder warning, overall she triggers herself and has such a blast with it, they are together by this point but I didn’t tag the relationship because it’s not shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longkissgnite/pseuds/longkissgnite
Summary: Annie wants to help herself cope with the horrors of the arena in a new way, by watching the reruns on tv.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Helping

**Author's Note:**

> I would recommend reading my writing of her games (Drowning) as well/before this as this heavily references that but you can go without that!!

⠀⠀This was supposed to help, she kept reminding herself.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀It was supposed to be good. To watch her games when they aired on tv was supposed to be good. It was supposed to clear things up, to make her realize what had been real or not. To make her stop asking /stupid/ questions because no one sane doubted their reality. As long as she asked what was real or not real she was just as crazy as the Capitol wanted her to be, she was giving them /exactly/ what they wanted.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Everyone had advised against it, told her it wasn’t worth it. She was still so /delicate/ her sister said, always delicate to her, always fragile. She wanted to fix it, this would help her fix it. Fix herself from what the Capitol had done.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀So this was supposed to help, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a knitting project in hand was supposed to help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀It was not supposed to turn into her staring intensely at the screen, her yarn tangled in her fingers and needles abandoned in her lap. It wasn’t supposed to be this. It wasn’t supposed to be her rocking, making small whimpering sounds, tugging at the yarn and tangling it worse. It wasn’t supposed to make her worse.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀It wasn’t supposed to show the whole Games in highlights, it wasn’t supposed to show Reef dying, her screaming. Oh had she really screamed? It wasn’t supposed to be this way, this was supposed to /help/, oh couldn’t anything just help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀It had been almost a year since her victory, the poor thing had only just turned nineteen a week ago and it all felt like the horrid events were yesterday. She had thought watching them would clarify things, would show her it’s over, it’s only on tv like any other games, it’s real but /over/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This had the opposite effect, of course. Instead she was starting to slip and she was /alone/. So horribly alone it felt as suffocating as drowning. Since she got back from the tour catching when she was slipping was beginning to get easier, asking for help before she was too far gone became /almost/ routine.

⠀⠀But Finnick was out, she couldn’t remember where, just that he was out, not here, and so she couldn’t rely on him. This was supposed to help her not /need/ to rely on him, or Mags. Although the old woman was just next door, Annie was quiet and couldn’t get herself to look away, let alone get the phone.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know what was real. This was supposed to help, if she kept telling herself that she’d stay grounded, she’d stay here and safe.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was supposed to help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was supposed to help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was supposed to help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was supposed to help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This wasn’t helping.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀There was blood on her, there had to be blood on her. On her hands, on her skirt. Skirt? She didn’t remember a skirt in the arena, but it was all such a blur how she could be sure, maybe it /was/ a skirt in the arena. There was blood on her because his head hit the ground before his body. Oh she must be covered, she let him die she had his blood all over her.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She reached her hands into her hair, to cover her ears but missing the target. Instead now they bunched at her scalp like they had the yarn, not yanking or pulling but oh the grip was painful. Was her hair this short when she went into the arena? Had the stylists really groomed her /that/ much? She could’ve sworn it was well to her waist, but it was such a blur how she could be sure.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She didn’t feel the grass below her, but she didn’t feel much below her. All she felt was blood, all she heard was laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing at her. For covering her ears, for being so /weak/, for getting Reef killed. She killed him and they knew it, that is why they laughed. They laughed because it was so /pathetic/, because /she/ was pathetic.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Screaming. Screaming coming from her although she didn’t feel her mouth open, she didn’t feel the sound come out but oh it was hers. It was her scream and his blood. That had to be real, it felt so real it /must/ be. It had to be.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was real and she killed Reef.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She couldn’t breathe, maybe it was because of her screaming? Or maybe she was already drowning. It didn’t matter why, it just mattered that she /couldn’t breathe/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀That means she’d die. That’s how it should be.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She didn’t believe in an eye for an eye, she didn’t believe in such cruelty. She was simply a rare exception, meant to die because that’s who their target had been. Meant to die because he was gone and she’d never survive anyway.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Lowering a hand from her hair (immediately missing the security in such a tight hold) she felt around herself, she needed /something/. She wasn’t even sure what it was but she needed it. Seconds later she found it, long, cool to the touch, and slender. She couldn’t place what it was now but it would do the trick.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀What was it she wanted to do? She wasn’t even sure.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She didn’t remember ever having a weapon on her, not trusted because her actions were too erratic. She didn’t remember grabbing anything when she ran, although she didn’t remember running now. She supposed it made sense though, to be armed. It would be good for her to be able to protect herself, she thought. Except she didn’t /want/ protection, she doesn’t need it. Wherever she was, protection wasn’t necessary. All she could hear was her own noises, no one would be around to hurt her.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀No, protection isn’t what she needed the thin weapon for. It was for herself, she’d decided then. The point on it wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t dull either. It /hurt/ as she jabbed at her lap, hitting a tender spot that caused the pain to worsen. She repeated the action, hoping, wishing it would just /do/ something, anything. Cause her to bleed, to die. Anything.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Instead she heard noises around her, ones she couldn’t place. Feeling, shifting, moving. Maybe someone near? Maybe she should stop jabbing at herself and defend herself, or maybe she should just let them kill her.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Her actions happened faster than any of her thoughts, swinging the tool at whoever was near, trying so hard to keep them at bay. To keep herself safe. But her wrist was grabbed, tight but not harsh. She looked up in the person’s, the man’s, eyes, and could not place him. He was no tribute, he was no competitor. But then who could he be?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀”Annie,” the voice was panicky, rushed, his hand tightening as he spoke, “Annie, Annie it’s me, I’m here,” the tool was taken from her, discarded somewhere she couldn’t see. He crouched down in front of her, she wished she could recognize him.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀”Annie, you’re home.” No, she couldn’t be, it all felt so real, these words had to be some trick. “It’s not real Annie, you’re safe, you’re here with me, you’re home with Finnick and that’s /real/.”  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Real.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Her head played trick after trick on her but it never once used him, this had to be real. There was no reason for it to start now, this /had/ to be true. He would never lie to her, he’s promised that. The only thing she could ever be sure of is he won’t be used against her, he won’t ever try to hurt her.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was real. /This/ would help.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She reached for him like a helpless child, even with him holding her wrist (which he hadn’t even loosened the grip on), she didn’t want to be in the arena anymore, she needed /him/. She needed the help and stability and everything else he brought her.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀”There’s blood,” she managed to get out, imagining she looked quite pathetic with how she looked up at him.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀”Not real.” His voice was firm, so firm if it wasn’t him she’d think nothing gentle could ever rest in it. “There’s yarn, there’s you and there’s me, that all is real.”  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She nodded, it didn’t make /sense/ how it all felt so real, but he said what was and what wasn’t and she couldn’t start doubting him now. Instead he sat down fully, gently pulling her into his lap and cradling her. Gently moving a hand through her hair, then up and down her arm. Soothing her back to reality, bringing her back to him.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀She wondered how obvious it was that she was upset, that she hadn’t been present at all. She wondered if she really hurt herself, or if she only imagined it, hallucinated it as Mags called it. Not that she could get herself to look, she couldn’t. She instead cling onto him, pressing her face against his chest where it was dark but at least it was /real/. It was hard, but he was here, how hard could it be?  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Unbelievably hard, she thought. He had been so near and she still acted like this. She still flinched when there was the sound of a canon on the tv, twice it happened before Finnick turned the whole thing off. She still was sure somewhere on her there had to be blood, she was sure none of this could ever become /easy/.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀Easy didn’t matter though, he didn’t stick around only when it was easy. He was here now, whispering to her still, rocking her, petting at her. If he was here for her only when it was easy she wouldn’t have seen him at all this last year, nothing had been simple and he still stuck to her.  
⠀⠀  
⠀⠀This was real, he was supposed to help and he was gentle and real.


End file.
